hillsbro Posted February 6, 2009 Share Posted February 6, 2009 I went to a top grammar school from 1959 to 1966, and one teacher was a downright sadist. I'm sure he only became a teacher so that he could get away with bullying and caning kids. The annoying thing is that he's still going strong in his 90s, while some far better teachers never even made it to retirement. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
melv Posted February 8, 2009 Share Posted February 8, 2009 I went to Norton County school (now Mundella) from 1959-1965, & I don't have many fond memories of that place. The various implements I was hit with were; slippers, canes, rounders bats, stool ball bats & board rubbers. I was also thumped, slapped, nipped & had my hair pulled. Most of this was done by an ex-army sadist, who should have never been in teaching! BTW, it was a junior & infants school. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
poppins Posted February 8, 2009 Share Posted February 8, 2009 Sister Josephine , Convent High school Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
mh01 Posted February 9, 2009 Share Posted February 9, 2009 did anyone go to colley school in the eighties? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Bushbaby Posted February 10, 2009 Share Posted February 10, 2009 In my first year at De La Salle college, the English teacher was a scrawny little guy called Alpheus (Alfie), a member of the demonic brotherhood. He had soft fleshy hands, skinny arms, a pencil neck, and oversized round wire-rimmed glasses perched atop a beaky nose. Imagine if you will, Charles Hawtrey in a cassock, but with fewer male hormones. I remember one particular day…. “Poetry!” he shouted as he elbowed his way through the door, carrying a pile of red text books, which he then distributed about the class in the manner of a whirling dervish sorting out the mail “Page 44 – Timothy Winter”… He then got the whole class to stand and chant the poem as he knocked out a staccato beat on the desk with one of his precious holy books “Ti-Mo-Thee-Win Ter Goes to school. Da-da-da-da da-da da-da Da-da-da-da da-da da-da” And so on, all the while pounding away at the front, his neck pulsing like a deep-vein trombonist. Every time someone broke the tempo, he would shout “N0” and give three sharp raps for an emergency stop. He would then humiliate the cretin who had messed up before going back to the beginning, searching vainly for a consensus of rhythm. After half-an-hour of this I recall being so thoroughly disheartened and deciding that I hated the whole shebang. The school, the class, the teacher, the poem, the poet, the entire Fred Karno’s army.. Fast forward then 30 years. I’m a Communications Engineer working in a Radio Lab in Chesterfield, calibrating Transceivers for the new mobile phone systems… I’d got the place to myself for the day, and had cranked the wireless up to 11. It was Radio 4’s Poetry Day, where the normal scheduling was interrupted at intervals by actors reading popular and indeed populist poems, the first in a series of events designed to revive a dying art - a successful venture as it turned out. I had already been blown away by Juliet Stevenson’s performance of TS Eliot’s “The Waste Land”, had determined myself to get hold of a copy, and was looking forward to the daily drama “In two minutes, The Afternoon Play…” a received pronunciation announced “ …but first, Martin Jarvis reads “Timothy Winter” by Charles Causley” An icy shiver went down my spine and my hands shook so much I had to put my soldering iron down. In my naivety, I had genuinely expected Martin to start spitting out the mono syllables of my memory, accompanied by some BBC Sound Effects “John Bonham” rattling out “Trampled Underfoot” on a Victorian School desk with a dog-eared catechism. Imagine my surprise then when, in his mellow “made for radio” baritone he began gently.. “Timothy Winter goes to school.. His eyes as WIDE as a football pool…” As he continued, I realised what a beautiful poem this was, full of genteel undulating rhythms and vivid images, and marked with barbed comments about the level of poverty in post-war Britain, Middle-Class ignorance, and fingers pointed at the gaping holes in the Welfare State’s so called safety nets. It was quite simply glorious I thought back to that day with Alfie, and I wanted to hate him. I really really wanted to hate him, more than I had ever done before But you know what? I couldn’t. All I could do was pity him Here was a guy whose job included teaching poetry to twelve year old kids, and he hadn’t got a clue Instead of looking in detail at the soft cadences, at the stark imagery, the politics, the satire and the jibes at Britain’s “you’ve never had it so good” class system mentality, all he cared about was his “Beat-out-that-rhythm-on-a-drum” palpitations, and I thought, what a wretched waste of a life. Instead of making kids miserable, he should have joined his separated-at-birth twin brother in the Carry-On films, and given us all a larf!! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
hillsbro Posted February 10, 2009 Share Posted February 10, 2009 A fascinating tale, Bushbaby, and it all goes to show the impact of poetry, even when the poet's neatly-scanned couplets are vicariously churned out by an insentient wordsmith. I think Charles Hawtrey would have made a better job of reading his twin brother's poem, but if not, at least he would have made you all laugh. Private Widdle had me in stiches as the wind whistled up the Khyber... Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
paddyO Posted February 13, 2009 Share Posted February 13, 2009 I have heard enough stories from my old man to know what your talking about. He went to school in the late 40's, they got rubber pipes, cane, slipper, hair pull, waist paper basket etc. Some of the teachers were ex army, battle hardened nutters back from WW2, even the parents daren't complain to the school for fear of getting sorted out. My schooling was in a much more civilised era, 70's Care to name a date. Glad you liked the joke a teacher came to our school in 1960,a right rat-faced little get,who said he didnt believe in the cane,instead he told us he would belt us with a rubber gas pipe as he was the so called science master, i happened to be the first recipient,i got it across the backside it nearly crippled me,when my dad found out he went up to the school and saw the head,who told the teacher in no uncertain terms he had better not use the rubber gas pipe ever again in his school,and dad said if he ever laid a finger on me again, that he(dad)would be out of prison,before the teacher got out of intensive care?. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
upinwath Posted February 13, 2009 Share Posted February 13, 2009 I've been lucky in that I've had some of the best teachers in the education system. Top of the tree maths teachers like Mr barham and Mr Bowen, fantastic science teachers including Mr Billington and Mrs Bassingdale along with a history teacher to thank the world for. Another Mr Billington. The brother of the physics teacher. All top teachers and I have to say their lessons were a pleasure to be in. The down side is the two worst teachers I've ever had the misfortune to be in the same world as. The first was Mrs Cardwell who was my first ever teacher. I hate her to this day for her smug attitude and personality of a clap infected donkey. The second was a maths teacher by the Name od Miss Ackerly. I had the misfortune of being in the hateful cow's class for a couple of years. I even went to the headmaster to complain about her and ask if I could be moved down a set just to get out of her way. I knew all the other kids hated her but what I didn't realise is that the other staff hated her as well. I met another of my favorite teachers a few years ago and the subject came up. Seems the staff at the time would have been happy to attend her funeral as well. I did meet some kids from that school just before I left the UK. They also hated the bitch. Just before anyone has a go at me for naming names. It's an opinion held by me and bugger all to do with the forum or anyone else. Hate is a personal thing and I hated both bitches about the same. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Angela P Posted February 13, 2009 Share Posted February 13, 2009 a teacher came to our school in 1960,a right rat-faced little get,who said he didnt believe in the cane,instead he told us he would belt us with a rubber gas pipe as he was the so called science master, i happened to be the first recipient,i got it across the backside it nearly crippled me,when my dad found out he went up to the school and saw the head,who told the teacher in no uncertain terms he had better not use the rubber gas pipe ever again in his school,and dad said if he ever laid a finger on me again, that he(dad)would be out of prison,before the teacher got out of intensive care?. Lol,great stuff you were lucky to have a dad like that. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Bushbaby Posted February 15, 2009 Share Posted February 15, 2009 Sister Josephine , Convent High school Jake Thackray wrote a song about her... Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Recommended Posts
Archived
This topic is now archived and is closed to further replies.